Dysfunctional
by GoldSeven
Summary: The Petrellis' Thanksgiving dinner from Nathan/Sylar's point/s of view. Beware of first person narration, present tense, and stream of consciousness. Rated T because that's what you get when you're inside Sylar's head.


**Dysfunctional**

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"Who's ready for pie?"

Your voice… doesn't belong here. It belongs in a big, brightly-lit house with a table laden with good food, with bustling servants, with a happy family sitting around it. Do you actually see that big, brightly lit house, the laden table, the happy family, when you close your eyes, Ma? Do you see them with your eyes open?

Say something, Ma. And this time, let it not be some mindless prattle about wine or pie _I wouldn't mind pie_ How can you pretend everything's fine and that this is just another family Thanksgiving? What sort of family do you think this is? When have we ever had Thanksgiving dinner in Peter's apartment _in this dismal place? Since you got wasted and slept it off in your brother's bed when you should all have gone to that bright fancy house like the storybook family that you are, that's when. And that's MY body you were pouring all that Scotch into, pal. I thought we'd established that alcohol doesn't get rid of me._

I'm dead.

"You look at me, you don't see your son… you see the man who killed your son. You…" –_ Peter_ – "you don't see your brother. _Because I'm not your brother_."

Come on, Pete, you _even you _can't deny I'm not me. You want for things to be normal again _I bet you do_. _You really think that big, imbecile oaf of a cop could have destroyed me, could have driven me permanently from my body? I would have thought even you were smarter than that._

"Nathan…"

"_Guess again."_

_Ah, you're scared now__, "Mom". So good to see you scared. This is for the time you played me like a puppet. I'm nobody's puppet._

"_We never should have_ _gone to Texas_, Pete."

_The shock in their faces; they honestly didn't see this one coming? Such confidence in that fat idiot. Matt Parkman should feel flattered. I'll make sure I'll tell him when I go back to kill him._

_But first, this. This one really deserves to last a while. The two people I _love_ hate most _No _but_ _I need to get rid of… him first _I won't let you hurt them_ get away from me _No_ get out of my head _NO_ you're dead _Not yet I'm not _it's over, let go of me _NO _LET GO OF ME!_

_A few last remnants of electricity still course about the room.__ The lights are flickering, dangling. The wooden floor feels cold under my hands. Feels. Cold. My hands. I had forgotten what it felt like. I'm back in my own body. The smell of food is everywhere. I'm starved. For more than just food._

_But first things first. That __pumpkin pie smells delicious. You want some? Oh, of course, you can't move. How silly of me to forget. Well, it's only fair since you didn't leave me any of the turkey. The crust here is a bit dry. Probably was in the oven for a few minutes too long. You mind if I just eat the middle? Course not. That's what family's for, right?_

"_I feel like I haven't eaten in months. You think that's some kind of existential soul thing?"_

"You have a soul?"

_Aw, this is cute. If somewhat disappointing._

"_Come on, buddy. That's the best you've got? No big speeches about hope? Triumph of the human spirit?_"

"Why don't you let me out of this chair and find out?"

_Aw again. __What would you do? Fly a pretty loop? Shapeshift into the President… ah, no, we had that. And anyway, you're not going anywhere near me. Not yet, at least. I'm not letting you walk away this time. Not because you have anything I want – keep your shoddy one-at-a-time, delivery-on-touch-only power. But you're a stain on my record. Several stains on my record._

_And you… it's hard to figure what you're thinking. Peter's an open book; you're a lot more complex. And, of course, you once managed to convince me I was your son. I liked the thought at the time. Kind of still like it. Which doesn't mean I won't kill you, but there's some fond memories there.__ Turning the serial killer who killed _me _her son into her son? That's _justsick_ so beautiful it makes me wonder I didn't think of it._

"_And __you__... You have raised the evil incarnate bar to an entirely new level. Thank you for giving me something to strive for._"

_Oh, this is fun. You look at me like I'm a rapist. Did you feel like a rapist _Son of a_ when you kissed me, telling me you were my mother?_ _Of course you didn't. _

_Time to end this. The pie's gone anyway. _

"_All this talk of souls and spirits sends my head spinning. I am not a religious man. But there is one thing I do believe in: blood. Time to carve the turkey."_

_She screams as I start opening her skull. How ironic. Remember when it was you, Peter, who tried to open your mother's skull _let her go_ while I was watching? You probably mind more now than I did back then. Watch carefully now. _Stop it, you son of_ It's your turn next _STOP IT!

"_What's happening?"_

I'm not letting it happen! _What's the matter with _Get out of here _me! You're nothing! You're less than a memory! Why won't you _I don't care what I am, I don't care _leave me alone _what you are! _It's over, accept it! What else_ Leave her alone_ do you need before you finally _I'm not letting you _accept that it's over _hurt my mother _get out of my damn head _or my brother _get OUT_ I've felt what it's like _LEAVE ME ALONE_ to be you _NO_ and I chose to be me _There IS no you, there's no more Nathan Petrelli, I slit your damn throat _Whatever I am, I can stop you _get out of_ _my_ and I WILL!

Oh my God.

I nearly killed them. That monster nearly killed them.

"What have you done to me?"

I've got to get away from here. I don't care where. Somewhere I can't hurt them.

And for the love of Christ, Pete, don't _come after me_.


End file.
